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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531343">My Only Chance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins'>Imagining_in_the_Margins</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Domestic Violence, Drugs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Redemption, Serial Killers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 08:34:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,302</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24531343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The BAU is after one of the most prolific serial killers in the world, but she swears she’s innocent.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>111</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>My Only Chance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The rain beat softly against the window as I stared out into the woods surrounding the cabin, grateful that I had at least made it back here before the torrential downpour. I sighed, leaning my head against the window to feel the coolness on my flushed cheeks.</p><p>Turns out, it’s very difficult to drag an unconscious 6’1” man in full tactical gear out of a building, into a car, and back inside. I glanced over at the sleeping figure on my bed, not moving from my position by the window. He should be awake by now. There was no sense in worrying, though. I couldn’t change it.</p><p>I felt deeply guilty for dosing him with ketamine, but I really didn’t have a choice. I was scared he wouldn’t believe me. That he would kill me before I had a chance to explain. Now that he was laying so peacefully in my bed, though… I felt I had underestimated him.</p><p>I returned my attention to trees blowing in the breeze. I closed my eyes, listening to the sounds of mother earth’s rage. I understood it well.</p><p>Spencer’s groan was the first new thing I heard, followed by the sound of a very lazy struggle. I hopped out of my seat, running over quickly.</p><p>“Dr. Reid, you’re awake!” I cried, placing a gentle hand on the side of his face to push the hair out of the way. “Thank god. I was worried.”</p><p>He winced visibly at the contact, and I pulled my hand back as if the reaction had burned me. </p><p>“Sorry,” I mumbled, realizing he was probably still out of it. He looked terrified.</p><p>“Where are we?” It was an understandable first question. I had nothing to hide. </p><p>“We’re in an old cabin I used to visit when I was a kid. I guess it’s my house now.”</p><p>His panicked eyes scanned the surroundings, no doubt spotting his gun on the kitchen counter. I didn’t have any other weapons nearby.</p><p>“Please don’t be scared,” I pleaded.</p><p>“Why did you bring me here?” I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. This was, after all, the only place I could go. </p><p>“It’s the only place I have that I’m safe. Otherwise he’ll find me.”</p><p>Spencer looked confused, and clearly still affected by the drugs. “I’m so sorry, do you need water? I-I’ve only ever been on the receiving end of ketamine and I know it’s… not pleasant.”</p><p>He stopped his struggle, still leaned far away from me and trying to keep his distance. I stood up, going to get the water regardless of his answer. He probably still was figuring it out.</p><p>“You… you’ve never drugged anyone?” His question was cautious; his tone was steady and challenging. I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a water bottle before walking back to him.</p><p>“Of course not,” I replied, breaking the seal of the bottle in front of him before setting it down next to the bed. His hands were bound together in front of him, with another rope connecting him to the bed. His wrists were already looking irritated from him pulling at them.</p><p>“I’m sorry that I tied you up.” With each apology, he seemed more confused and more terrified, which was the opposite of my intention. I was just as confused. “I got scared.”</p><p>“Why were you scared?” His questions so far were all about me. I didn’t like it.</p><p>“I was scared you would try to hurt me,” I answered it with full confidence, but no arrogance. I’m assuming that’s what surprised him. I was starting to understand what was going on, but I really didn’t want to believe it.</p><p>“Why would I try to hurt you, (y/n)?” </p><p>The way he said my name made my stomach turn to knots, my chest burning with a sadness I didn’t think was possible. The tone of voice he was using… the way he posed his questions. I stumbled backwards, a hand over my mouth.</p><p>“You… You think I’m crazy.” The words still hurt worse somehow as I said them. My hand moved to my stomach, trying to hold myself together somehow.</p><p>“I do not think you are crazy.” He was still doing it. I felt like I was going to be sick, and the tears began to well in my eyes. </p><p>“You know what I mean, Dr. Reid. You think I’m psychotic! I’m not!”</p><p>“I never said that.” He was trying to keep me calm, but it was too late. I was enraged that even after all my work, it was going to be for nothing.</p><p>“You think I’m a <em>murderer</em>? How could I— if I was psychotic, how would I have sent you all those letters? Did you even read them?”</p><p>There were few things in this world that would hurt me more than the next two words that came out of Spencer’s mouth. </p><p>“What letters?”</p><p>I began to cry, silently and painfully. I covered my face with my hands, unable to process what was happening. “The… The letters I sent you. I sent you a letter every week. I told you. I told you what was happening to me. I begged you—“</p><p>“(Y/n) I’m sorry. I never got any letters from you.” I knew my breakdown wasn’t helping my case that I was not, in fact, insane, but I couldn’t help it. I spent an entire year writing him letters every day, warning him what was going to happen and that I would be framed.</p><p>I even planned for him to find me a few hours ago, in the exact place he showed up. </p><p>“You didn’t come to help me,” I choked, realizing he was only there by chance.</p><p>“You thought it was me. You thought I did it. You… You would have killed me.” The words were the sound of my heart breaking. Resigned, I felt the tears flow down my cheeks. There was no point in fighting it now. If the only person on my side wasn’t on my side at all, don’t I almost deserve this?</p><p>“I never wanted to kill you, (y/n). I wouldn’t do that.” He seemed genuine, but at this point it was impossible to really tell. He flinched from across the room when I turned around and pulled a knife from the block. I scoffed as I approached him, realizing that he still just thinks I’m some crazy scorned bitch out to kill everyone who ever hurt her. There was no use saying I wasn’t going to hurt him. What was the point?</p><p>“What are you doing, (y/n)?”</p><p>I didn’t answer. I slid the knife behind the rope and began to cut through the fibers. He didn’t say anything as the sound of my stifled sobs was accompanied by the sounds of friction. Once I finished, I held the knife out to him.</p><p>“Take it, I don’t want to hurt you.”</p><p>His eyebrows were cross, and his mouth opened and closed a few times with no words. He slowly moved his hands, rolling his wrists for a moment before taking my hand in his, carefully removing the knife from my grasp. I let him, although part of me wanted to fight him just so I could feel him longer. It’d been months since I’d interacted with another person this closely.</p><p>“I don’t understand.” It was an honest statement, and he watched me carefully as I looked down at the ground away from him, wiping my tears that still dared to fall.</p><p>“I said I didn’t want to hurt you,” I repeated, sniffling as I sat down on the chair by the bed, handing him the water I had gotten for him.</p><p>“I believe you,” he replied, placing the water back down. For someone who believed me, he still didn’t want to drink the sealed water bottle I opened for him.</p><p>“But I don’t understand why. (Y/n), I want to help you but… I can’t. Unless you tell me what’s going on.” It hurt me that he couldn’t accept the obvious. I wiped my tears one more time, before deciding I had to keep it together.</p><p>“I would never, <b>ever</b> hurt you.” My tone was forceful and I hated it, but I needed him to understand I was serious. </p><p>“You’re my only chance.”</p><p>“Only chance for what?” Now that he had his hands back, he seemed much more relaxed. Well, as relaxed as he could be with the woman suspected of being the most prolific female serial killer of all time.</p><p>“The man who did this. All of it. He’s doing it because of me,” I wrung my hands together, looking over at the clock on the wall.</p><p>“What’s going to happen?” Spencer asked, clearly recognizing that I was watching the time because I was expecting something.</p><p>“He’s going to find me. I know he’ll find me within the hour and— He’s going to kill me. If I don’t do what he says.” </p><p>Spencer didn’t touch me for a moment, although I knew he wanted to. He was doing that thing where he calculates whether or not I’m actually a risk. He’s the one who has the knife, I’m not sure why he’s scared. He has an excuse to kill me.</p><p>“(Y/n). If you let me take you in, we can protect you.” I scoffed, having heard that one before.</p><p>“Last time someone told me that, I ended up in a fucking asylum for a year and wrote letters that never got delivered so, please excuse my skepticism.”</p><p>He seemed sympathetic, and he should, I had written to him specifically because I knew his mother’s history with mental institutions. </p><p>“If I go in, then the only thing I’ll have is my word. He would kill himself before he let the truth come out.”</p><p>“Why you, (y/n)?” The question hurt, only because I was so used to people using it to justify why it was happening to me. But something told me he didn’t mean it like that. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I recalled all the horrible details that were already hard enough to go through twice (once in person, once in the letters).</p><p>“I tried to leave,” I explained in as few words as possible. He immediately understood. </p><p>“Stupid me,” I laughed, running a hand through my hair.</p><p>The next thing I felt was his hand on my thigh. It was so warm against my adrenaline-fueled body. It was softer than an FBI agent’s hands had any right to be.</p><p>“You’re not stupid.” He meant it. My trembling hand made its way down to his hand, and I placed mine over his. I realized that this was the first time in over a year that a man had touched me without the intention to hurt me.</p><p>I couldn’t help the tears from falling once more. My gaze was fixed on our hands, and I felt the doubt leaving his mind the longer we sat like this. I know he’s a profiler, but the way he was looking at me, the way he knew what I was feeling, was something else. This was something spiritual.</p><p>Spencer leaned forward, placing another hand around my shoulder before he began to pull me closer to him. Once I could actually move, ripped from my catatonic state by his touch, I fell to pieces in his arms on the bed.</p><p>I tried to explain from the beginning, but I knew we didn’t have time. I told him everything I could remember, I told him everything that had happened. I wanted him to understand that I had tried to do everything in my power to save those people. I never wanted this to happen.</p><p>His hands never left me over the next thirty minutes. I could feel the life coming back to me, filling me with the light he offered. I wondered if he was even aware what a difference he made in my life. Even if I died now, I would die a happier person than I had been before.</p><p>“(Y/n), I need to get my gun now, okay?” Spencer finally said, his eyes watching the clock carefully. My heart sped up in my chest, and I found myself unable to speak. I just nodded, moving away from him so he could get it himself.</p><p>Part of me still expected him to turn the gun on me, even now. I wasn’t used to this. I wasn’t used to trusting a man to not hurt me. But when he got to the counter, he just put his holster back on and left the gun where it was.</p><p>He glanced out the windows, then came back to my side. He placed a hand over mine once more, and I wondered if this was just another trick. Did he know how starved I was for affection?</p><p>“(Y/n), I need my phone. If something happens, I’ll need back up here.”</p><p>I shook my head, the insecurity festering in my head. “No,” I said through my rising sobs. “If you turn on your phone, he’ll find me, too.”</p><p>“(Y/n), if he kills me then you won’t have anyone else left to help you.” He sounded frightened, and I’m sure he was. But so was <em>I.</em> </p><p>“I wouldn’t let him do that. I wouldn’t let him kill you!”</p><p>“You might not be able to stop him.” I knew he was right. I knew that. But the reality of the situation was too dark to bear. I couldn’t imagine what might happen when his truck pulled up. I didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>He saw me glance down at my right pocket, and he immediately knew where it was. My breath had quickened to a dangerous pace. My entire body was shaking with the fear quickly filling every fiber of my being.</p><p>“It’s okay, (y/n). I promise. I will do whatever I can to make sure you are okay. But I can’t do it by myself.”</p><p>My bones felt like they were filled with concrete as I reached into my pocket to pull out his phone. He didn’t snatch it from me, taking it with as much trepidation as I felt. All I heard was the sound of blood rushing in my ears.</p><p>He didn’t look down at the phone as he took it, instead cupping my face with one hand, giving a quiet instruction, “Breathe. Slow down.”</p><p>Drawing in deep breath through his nose, he blew it out into the space between us. I mimicked him the best I could, choking on the air for the first few tries.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay.”</p><p>I wanted to believe him. I wanted to. But that was the same time I heard a truck ripping down the dirt road.</p><p>
  <b>— At the Asylum — </b>
</p><p>SSA Hotchner stood in the hospital where the unsub had stayed, listening to a very jaded nurse explain how she knew that girl was no good.</p><p>“She was that real dangerous kind of crazy,” the woman spoke bitterly, pulling out a large box from the closet of her office.</p><p>“Why’s that?” Morgan asked, his arms crossed as he tried to hide the fear and anxiety behind his cold demeanor. His best friend had been gone for a couple of hours now, and this woman was not known to spend much time with her victims.</p><p>“She was real obsessive. She constantly wrote letters to some man. An FBI agent, actually, now that I think about it.”</p><p>Hotchner perked up at the mention, pulling the box towards himself on the desk, opening it and revealing hundreds of envelopes with handwritten addresses.</p><p>“What is this? Why didn’t you tell us about this earlier?” His words were filled with rage, picking up a handful of the letters and noticing the same name written in proper, elegant cursive: <em>Dr. Spencer Reid. </em></p><p>“I forgot about them, to be honest,” The nurse said with a shrug, like it was not an incredibly important detail. “She was batshit. I’m sure they made no sense.”</p><p>Morgan had already started to tear the letters open, scanning the contents and wishing more than anything he had Reid there with him now. He knew he couldn’t find the details he needed in the time they had.</p><p>“Mrs. Davis, the man she wrote these letters to was kidnapped by her in broad daylight from a public place 4 hours ago. Now, is there anything else you are keeping from us, or do I need to charge you with obstruction of a federal investigation?”</p><p>Hotchner never got her answer, because Morgan had noticed a pattern in each of the letters. He grabbed his shoulder, turning his attention to one of the letters.</p><p>“Hotch… You gotta see this.”</p><p>
  <b>— In the Cabin — </b>
</p><p>“Oh my god,” I whispered, backing up into the corner of the room furthest from the door. “Spencer, I’m scared.”</p><p>“It’s okay. It’s okay. Get down and stay in the corner,” his voice quiet as he stood in front of me, pulling his gun out as he dialed frantically on his phone, holding the phone to his ear. I couldn’t hear the other side over the sound of my pulse.</p><p>“Garcia. It’s Reid. Yes, I’m fine. I need you to triangulate the position of this call and send back up immediately.” The sound of the car door slamming and an all too familiar voice screaming my name made me sob much louder than I wanted. I covered my hand, trying to remember to breathe.</p><p>“Garcia. Listen to me. Listen. Whatever you do, do <em>not</em> hurt (y/n). Do you hear me? <b>Do not hurt her</b>.” His voice saying those words was the only thing keeping me sane, and when he spoke the next ones, I thought I might pass out from relief. </p><p>“It wasn’t her.”</p><p>But then the sound of my door crashing open resounded through the area, and I unintentionally let out a scream, revealing both of our positions immediately. I closed my eyes, not wanting to think about what would happen.</p><p>Spencer couldn’t kill him. If he killed him, it would be my word against the prosecution. There would no one but Spencer, the man I drugged and kidnapped, to plead my case. They both knew it, too.</p><p>“Well, hello there, Officer,” he drawled, and I could hear the sounds of his boots moving closer. “I see you have something that belongs to me.”</p><p>“Don’t come any closer, or I swear to god, I will kill you.” Spencer sounded infuriated, a rage that I hadn’t seen once so far from him. Even when he thought it was me, he never spoke to me like that.</p><p>“Hey, that’s fine with me. I won’t have to wait long for ya then, darling, would I?” He was referencing the death penalty. He was taunting us. I opened my eyes just barely, squinting enough to see they both had their guns drawn. Spencer’s was pointed at him but his was pointed at me.</p><p>“My team is on its way here right now. If you leave, you can get a head start. They won’t be able to find you, right? And you won’t be able to testify. It’ll just be her word.”</p><p>“That’s right,” he spoke lazily, bored by the confrontation. </p><p>“So, what’s the point? If she’s going to die either way, let her go. There’s nothing you can do to her in the time that’s left that will compare to what she’ll go through if you let her go.”</p><p>I tried to follow the conversation, and I felt the mistrust bubbling back into my heart. </p><p>“You deserve each other, you do. You know, I’m sure she<em> liked</em> what you did for her.” I couldn’t tell if he meant it or if he was just trying to get me free. I didn’t want to hear it, either way.</p><p>“I’ll do it myself. I’ll make sure she never feels anything good, ever again.” I tried to remember what he said to the woman on the phone. I tried to remember the sound of him pleading for my safety, over the words he spoke now. I didn’t want this to be the last time I heard his voice. I didn’t want to hear it anymore.</p><p>My ex was clearly contemplating the offer, seeing the fear on my features as I clamped my hands over my ears. He laughed, looking back to the agent and lowering his weapon. </p><p>“Your plan sounds nice, but there’s a little problem with it.”</p><p>Spencer didn’t respond, refusing to trap himself. He wasn’t going to play his game any more than he already had.</p><p>“I just really don’t fuckin’ like you.” </p><p>I knew what was going to happen. I could see it in my head, and I couldn’t let it. I stood up and shouted before he could raise his weapon again, “Wait! Stop!”</p><p>Spencer didn’t turn to look at me, but I could see the way his jaw and arms tensed. “I’ll go with you.” Through gritted teeth, Spencer said back, “No.”</p><p>“Yes! Yes. I will go with you. Just don’t hurt him. Okay? I-I love you. Just leave him alone.” The dark chuckle that left his lips at my words filled my heart with dread. Each nerve ending in my body fired, shooting me into a state of pure terror.</p><p>“T-That way they’ll know. Right? They’ll know that… That I really wanted to be with you. That I wanted this. That I love you.” The words were flowing from me in that same voice I always used to indulge him. My hands in the air, I stepped out from behind Spencer and stood in front of him.</p><p>“I love you, baby,” I tried to drum up whatever compassion I could. I wondered how this would be different if Spencer weren’t here. I wondered if he would hate me now. My ex stared at me with a primal satisfaction in his eyes. He loved the way he could control me. That’s all he wanted.</p><p>“Let me get my bag.” I pointed to the bag on the floor next to the bed. He nodded towards it to let me grab it, but I first turned to Spencer. Our eyes met for the first time since this started, and I willed myself not to cry. When I motioned for him to give me his gun, he looked back at the man who had turned his gun back to me. I could feel it in the air.</p><p>I mouthed a silent, “Please,” but he still wouldn’t budge. “Let me go,” I whispered, “Please.”</p><p>It was like he had to fight each finger to release the weapon, handing it to me unhurried and unsure. I breathed a sigh of relief as I turned back to hand it to the man, granting myself enough trust to scoop up my bag.</p><p>Remember how I told you my connection to Spencer was something more? Something spiritual? I wanted it to be true so badly. Before I walked out of the door, I turned back to look at him one more time. The look I gave him meant something. He was my only chance. If he understood, I would know if he felt the same thing I did. If he didn’t, it wouldn’t matter, anyway.</p><p>After my ex followed me out of the door and I heard it close, I turned to him. I waited for him to head towards the car. He opened the door for me, and I glanced back at the window that would allow me to see Spencer if he had stayed where he was. I didn’t see him.</p><p>I looked at the door, one hand digging into the small bag around my shoulder. “Hey, babe?” I called, looking at up him as I placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. </p><p>“What?” He snapped back, already tired of my presence he just fought so hard to regain.</p><p>But I wasn’t going to give him the answer he wanted. I wasn’t going to give him <em>anything</em> he wanted. With one swift movement, I had pulled a knife out of my bag, shoving it directly into his side and twisting it.</p><p>His scream filled the forest, and the feel of blood pooling around the handle and onto my hand made me forget myself for a moment.</p><p>“You fucking bitch!” The last things I saw were the shape of his fist cocked, aimed directly at my head, and the sight of Spencer in my peripherals.</p><p>
  <b> —</b>
</p><p>I woke up to the sounds of sirens. There were so many flashing lights in the forest. It felt like another world. I wondered if I had actually died, and this was just my soul in a perpetual state of unrest.</p><p>Someone’s hands were on me, and I cried out at the sensation, flailing on the ground in the mud. </p><p>“Don’t fucking touch me!” I screamed, raising my hands to push them all away.</p><p>“Where is Spencer?!” I shouted the question before I even thought about it. Suddenly, it all came back to me at once, the reason why I was on the ground. He had knocked me out cold right after I stabbed him.</p><p>“Ma’am, please, calm down. We’re trying to help you.”</p><p>“Where is he? Is he okay?” My voice was desperate, and I wasn’t fighting anymore. My hands lay limp beside me as I looked over to see two men being prepared to be placed in an ambulance. Triage dictates the most injured are loaded first.</p><p>“Oh my god,” I said in a high-pitched whine as I covered my face.</p><p>A strange man next to one of the stretchers looked over to see me as I struggled to sit up, realizing that he must have hit me again after I passed out, because I <em>definitely</em> had broken ribs. “Spencer!”</p><p>The stranger tried to keep the man next to him laying down, and I suddenly couldn’t hear anything until the man in the stretcher revealed himself. I had to know which one it was. My stomach hurt so badly, I figured there was probably something worse than a broken rib happening under the surface.</p><p>But I couldn’t pass out yet. I needed to know. A hand grabbed onto the stranger, and slowly I saw a mop of brown hair raised from the pillow.</p><p>“It’s okay, (y/n)” Spencer’s calming voice called out to me. </p><p>“It’s going to be okay.” That’s all I needed to hear, and I let the darkness take over me again.</p><p>
  <b> —</b>
</p><p>The familiar burn of the fluorescent lights was the next thing to wake me. I tried to lift my hands to cover my eyes, but I was stopped by handcuffs. Unable to protest in any other way, quiet tears slipped down my cheeks as I turned my head to look at my wrists.</p><p>I was just another prisoner again. Just like I always was.</p><p>“(Y/n).” His voice cracked as he said my name, and I could hardly believe it. On the other side of me, separated by only a sheet, was Spencer.</p><p>“Spencer?” I asked, just to be certain.</p><p>“Are you okay?” His voice told me he was in much worse shape than I was, I couldn’t believe that was the question he was asking me.</p><p>“Yes,” I faintly replied, “I am now.”</p><p>I wasn’t allowed to talk to him for much longer, as my peaking vitals alerted the staff that I was awake. With the staff came the rest of Spencer’s team, and they went over the typical questions I expected. They had found my letters, and even without Spencer’s talents, they had put together most of it. They told me my ex was still alive, and that he wouldn’t be allowed to see me again until the trial.</p><p>They told me that I would have to face consequences for what I did to Spencer and assured me that he would be fine. Considering how silent he had become, I realized he wasn’t there at all anymore. The room felt colder.</p><p>“Is he coming back?” I asked the question, already expecting the answer to be no. Their silence told me it was.</p><p>“Can you… Can you tell him thank you, for me?” The stranger from before, whose name happened to be Derek, nodded solemnly. </p><p>“Sure thing, kid. Promise.” After that, I was alone again. Except this time I had a hope and clarity that there was something binding Spencer and I that couldn’t be broken. Something spiritual. </p><p>
  <b>— Before the Trial — </b>
</p><p>It was almost time for me to stand in front of a courtroom and explain the worst time of my life to complete strangers. I had to plead my case, explaining why I did the things I did, and hope that they didn’t believe his word over mine. </p><p>My breath was hurried, and my lawyer didn’t seem all that interested at the moment, instead distracted with stopping the media from basically breaking down the courthouse door.</p><p>I closed my eyes, resting my head against the wall of the room. I could hear the sound of the rain outside, and I tried to remember the good parts of the worst day. The pitter-patter droplets sounded like a song, pulling me back to the warm, comforting embrace of the only man who had never hurt me.</p><p>‘<em>Breathe. Slow down.</em>’ The memory of his voice calming my racing heart. I tried to picture the way it felt when he touched me, the way that his arms built a home around me. I wanted to remember feeling safe again.</p><p>The sound of the door opening couldn’t tear me from this memory. I didn’t want to leave yet. I didn’t want to be where I was. I wanted to be back there, with him.</p><p>At first, I wondered how my memory could be so vivid, as I felt he warmth of his hand resting on my thigh. I smiled, tears peeking out the sides of my eyes.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” Spencer Reid’s voice this time was not a memory. A large, sad smile on my face as my hand joined his.</p><p>“I believe in you,” He said with so much pride, I had to believe him.</p><p>“It’s going to be okay,” he repeated. I nodded, leaning forward to rest my forehead on his shoulder. He rested his head against the top of mine, holding my hand amidst the quiet chaos.</p><p>“I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore,” he promised. </p><p>My heart swelled, and I let myself be lulled by the soft strokes he made against my back. This was the final confirmation I needed to know that we were meant to be together, in at least some sense. We were meant to be here, together. He said he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me, and I believed him.</p><p>With a soft exhale against his chest, I whispered, “I know. Thank you. For believing me.” </p><p>“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, the words lowering my heart rate with each passing second. </p><p>“Yeah, but I’m going to,” I laughed for the first time in a long time. </p><p>“I’m not going to thank you for drugging me, but…” He laughed, too, and I could feel wetness on my cheeks. Crying from happiness was such a strange thing, I could barely register what was happening. </p><p>I wanted to thank him for giving me a chance. For letting me get this far. But I couldn’t think of the words. I just burrowed further into his chest, moving as close as I could to him without sitting on his lap. </p><p>He could feel the words I wanted to say. I am confident he could, because when silence fell between us again, he told me one more time, “It’s going to be okay now. I’m here.”</p>
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